November 2, 1981
by Deluxe Sugar Quills
Summary: She doesn't know why he will stay, only that he will. He has Lily's eyes, after all.


November 2, 1981

The last thing Petunia expected when she went to put out the milk bottles was to have Lily's eyes staring up at her, blinking sleepily in the early morning. So it was only natural that her first reaction was to scream, causing the thing with Lily's eyes to start crying and for Vernon to jump with a start from where he was still sleeping in their bed upstairs.

"Petunia," he called sleepily down the stairs, "what is going on? Is that Dudley crying?" Petunia snatched the crying bundle from her steps and closed the doors before any of the neighbors caught wind of what was going on.

"Nothing, dear," she replied. Immediately when she grabbed hold of the bundle, the crying started to subside and turned into a gentle, curious cooing. Petunia would recognize the baby anywhere – the jet black hair looked the same in all of the pictures Lily had sent over Christmas the previous year, though the boy was so much bigger now. Petunia had not noticed that his eyes were so green, though they had probably just developed over time and were much bluer in the pictures Lily had sent long ago. The scar was also new – it looked fresh, even. What in heaven's name was her nephew doing on her doorstep at dawn?

The baby in her arms stirred, revealing a letter tucked in next to him. Petunia walked slowly into the kitchen, placing the baby into the cot that Dudley occupied whenever Petunia was in the kitchen. She sat down in a chair to read the letter while she still had a moment of quiet. Soon, Vernon would be downstairs and Dudley would finally wake up, and… Petunia didn't know what would happen next.

She barely even noticed that her hands were shaking until she realized that she couldn't read any of the words on the parchment in front of her, so she smoothed out of the letter on the table in front of her. The handwriting was painfully familiar, but Petunia tried to push those memories out of her mind as she read the letter.

_Dear Petunia,_

_I must regret to inform you that on Halloween night Lord Voldemort went into the Potters' house and murdered Lily and James. _Petunia inhaled sharply, her worst fears realized. The nagging feeling that something had gone terribly wrong with her sister was more than evident when she saw the bundle on her doorstep, but she held onto the last dredges of hope that it was a mistake. Lily had told her that there was someone after her, but Petunia had barely managed to read that letter before throwing it in the box where she kept all of her other letters. She never knew it would turn out this badly. _I am sorry to say it so bluntly, but it is best to tell you first. I, like yourself, did not think that I would be ever writing a letter to you again; as it happens, I regret that my next letter came in such circumstances. Lord Voldemort tried to murder Harry as well, but for some unknown reason, it had backfired. It is because of him Harry has the scar. Voldemort is now gone, but Harry remains without any family. None, of course, except you._

_It is impudent of me to ask so much of you, Petunia, but it would be fundamental to take Harry into your home. I do not believe that Lord Voldemort, though disappeared, is dead, and he may yet return to try and kill Harry again. If Harry lives under your roof, he has protection that no one can recreate, the same protection which I believed saved his life – the charm of a mother's love. If there are complications, it is understandable, and I will try to find a suitable home for Harry. I ask simply that if you can, raise Harry to keep him safe from any harm that may come his way. _

_Harry will receive his Hogwarts letter by his eleventh birthday, and his parents have left him money on which he will be able to attend school. It is not necessary to educate Harry about his parents' world if you do not wish to. I just ask that you give Harry the other letter by the age of ten. It will explain everything._

_If you have any questions or if there are any complications, you know how to contact me. _

_All the best,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

There was a second sheet of parchment behind the first that Petunia did not see before, but she did not bother to read it now. Petunia had also not noticed that Vernon had finally made his way downstairs in his half-asleep state, nor that there were tears silently streaming down her face and dropping onto her checkered tablecloth.

"I could've sworn I heard Dudley crying, but the little tyke is actually asleep for once," Vernon said before noticing Petunia's tears. "What's wrong?"

Petunia shakily held out the piece of parchment she had just read and watched Vernon's eyes move as he started to read it. Upstairs, Dudley had finally woken up (and noisily at that), so Petunia rushed upstairs to see to him, leaving Vernon with the letter.

When she returned downstairs ten minutes later, carrying Dudley in her arms, Vernon was staring into the cot where Harry lay, holding a mug of coffee and drinking silently.

"I knew something was up yesterday," Vernon muttered. He turned to Petunia. "You'll have to write to this Dumbledore fellow, we can't keep the boy here! We have Dudley to raise, and that boy is just – just—" He couldn't seem to figure out the right word to say and just spluttered off into silence.

"We cannot turn him out onto the streets," Petunia said. Dudley began to wriggle in her arms, so she set him down into his high chair.

"He said he could find the boy another home!" Vernon replied.

"I am the only family he has left, Vernon," Petunia replied. She did not know when exactly she decided that the boy could stay, only that she knew he would and that she would make sure of it. "You read the letter, we can protect him."

"We can discuss it in the evening, I have to go to work," Vernon said gruffly. He always did this – when there was something he did not want to discuss, he would either yell a lot or put it off until later. Today, it seemed, he would put it off until he got home. Then, Petunia knew, the yelling would start. But later.

As Vernon bustled about, Petunia began to get some baby food to feed Dudley. As she reached into the refrigerator, she realized that she would need to feed Harry as well. The boy had been keeping mum, and Petunia had to lean over the cot to make sure he was still breathing. He was, laying there just staring at the ceiling, and Petunia felt the tears stinging again as she saw Lily's eyes.

That was one of the reasons, she realized, that she wanted Harry here. No matter how much she and Lily had fought, no matter how little Petunia refused to speak of her sister nowadays, she was still her family and Petunia could still remember the days when they would go to the playground and play on the swings, just two little girls. Before the letter tore everything apart, before the brand new world wouldn't let Petunia in.

Harry, Petunia realized bitterly, was a part of that world. That world that so cruelly turned Petunia away, that she swore never to think of and never to return to but somehow kept straying back to it, time and time again. Lily's wedding was the worst – everything she could have had, all of the magic – and Petunia could do none of it.

If Petunia couldn't do it, neither could this boy that Dumbledore had dropped into her life. Petunia resented Dumbledore almost as much as she resented the other world, for he was the one who wrote the letter kindly telling her, "I'm sorry, but no." Petunia would squash the magic right out of this boy, and not even Lily's eyes staring up at her could stop her.

The more she thought of what could have been, what she had missed out on, and the thought of her little sister lying in the ground somewhere _dead_, the more Petunia started to cry. Dudley, hungry and confused as to why his mother was crying instead of him, started to bawl, which caused Harry to start to cry too. Vernon had disappeared by this point, leaving them alone. Petunia put her head down on the table, letting go of the heaving sobs she didn't realize she was holding in. The three in the kitchen cried and cried and cried, until Petunia finally composed herself and tried to create some kind of sense of normality in her home. It would never be the same again, she knew, but she could try.

When Vernon came home that night, there was no shouting. Petunia had her way. Another cot for Harry was found at a neighbors – Petunia lied and said that Dudley had broken his again and could they just borrow it until they could buy a new one? – and by the nine the boys were asleep and Petunia was exhausted.

Vernon sat in the living room watching the news, knowing not to bother Petunia anymore for the night. She was sitting in the kitchen, mulling silently over a mug of tea. What the next years would hold, she didn't know. She didn't know how she could handle all that was ahead, but she would. She would figure out what to tell the neighbors as to why her nephew was now living with her, how to raise the boy that was not hers but she somehow swore to protect, and what she was going to do with Harry.

Rising from the table and rinsing out her mug, she made a silent note to go and visit Lily's grave soon. She would hire a sitter (there was no way she would leave Vernon alone with the two boys for a day) and set off to Godric's Hollow, where she knew her sister had lived. To pay her last respects, to put her feelings to rest as best she could.

Petunia almost regretted not visiting Lily while she was still alive, but only almost. This one last visit would have to do. And with that thought, Petunia headed off to bed. It had been a long day.


End file.
